


Hidden Sins

by Writers_Glitch



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writers_Glitch/pseuds/Writers_Glitch
Summary: Edward Richtofen has always been a man of many faces—telling lies, keeping secrets, making himself known. It was just something he was good at, and it was a necessary skill to have when you're constantly needed. He's hard set on keeping things that way, even now, when the zombies had been taken from his hands by the brat of his once father figure.Though, a bottle of wine begs to differ on how much longer he can withhold the hidden sins of the truth.
Relationships: "Tank" Dempsey/Edward Richtofen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Hidden Sins

**Author's Note:**

> This story came to be all thanks to a wonderful artist—@lukeskintoddler on Tumblr! You can find their wonderful art there and the thread that made this story come to life: https://lukeskintoddler.tumblr.com/post/616053110792765440/some-sweet-delicious-stuff-that-youve-been

The clicking of his boots shake the decaying walls of the theater as he wanders aimlessly, digging his blade into a shambling undead with a wet splat as it falls beneath his boots, stepping on the corpse as he smacks the Speed Cola machine to receive a drink. Getting used to staying put in one place for so long was getting to the doctor's head, the constant cycle of waking to kill to eat and sleeping to restart all over again after the last undead gave up was a pain. Why couldn't everything just have gone to plan?! Why had this earth decided to make everything so imbalanced and unfair on his end?! He'd done everything for that damned group and what does he get? All his ideas and hard work stolen by the man he once looked up to along with an important breakthrough only glanced over by said superior! It had gotten him to this point now, having killed the man and now his wretched daughter was taking the reins that rightfully belonged to him! 

Chugging the sugary drink and throwing the bottle elsewhere, he's trying to keep himself busy before he ends up falling asleep somewhere and a new round starts without him knowing. He's had that happen before, being awakened by the screams and tearing of rotting wood boards from above his resting place. He'd found it more beneficial if he happened to sleep near Takeo, since he was a light sleeper and was more than happy to assist him unlike the others. With a low growl from his stomach, he comes to the realization that he hasn't eaten today as he rummages through his bag to find a can of beans in a plastic spoon, popping the top of the can to reveal the tasteless beans within. He's doing it for his body, not for the taste, less he wouldn't be eating this stuff at the moment. He'd much rather have some peaches, maybe even some cream corn right about now. If only Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte came in a can, oh, that sounds so good right about now—it's not his fault he's got the sweet tooth of a child. 

Building up some of the broken barriers since he's got nothing better to do, he found himself tinkering with his teleporter not long after that before deciding that he's thought of everything to occupy himself. To be honest, he wishes he hadn't left his precious journal in the sickly hot swamp (which they'd have to go to at some point to retrieve) so he could write down and relive some of the pent up anger and stress of being in this situation. A drunk and lovable Russian, a quiet and ambitious samurai, a loud mouth but attractive American—he'd found himself in quite a predicament. Humming to himself a familiar tune, he spent his free time cleaning up his equipment, taking a calm stroll through the decrepit halls of the theater as he tried to find something to keep him busy for more than five minutes. If he had counted correctly, they'd been here for a total of two weeks as he looked for components to reroute his beautiful creation to their next destination. His peaceful silence was interrupted by heavy footsteps, he recognized the heavy set. It was the American. 

He wasn't going to stop just because he heard him walking. 

Continuing on, he noticed they slowed down to right behind him, not so heavy in a sense now that he was closer to him. Then he heard his voice, already knowing that this wasn't going to be a great little chat. For an attractive test subject, he sure didn't have an off button on him. And so, he began to talk, Edward pinching the bridge of his nose as he whined about being in this place so long. He can't control where they go without the proper equipment, and where is he going to get that if he doesn't have time to search and understand the problem? He let him rant as they walked along the stairs down to the main entrance of the theatre before Dempsey decided to hop on a topic he'd given him the answer to already. If Edward Richtofen hates something, it's repeating himself more than twice. 

"....You know, Doc, I'm sick of having nothing but canned food and rotting corpses. Why can't you send us someplace with women!? Or at least better booze than Nik's Vodka. I'm tired of—"

And that's when he'd had enough, fed up with the constant whining and yelled about things he wants versus the things he gets. Turning on his heel to stare dead into his eyes, even if he was shorter than him by a handful of inches. 

"I am sick of your complaining, Dempsey! Go find your own alcohol and your own women that aren't undead, filthy American!"

He was genuinely surprised when he saw the man look taken aback for just a couple of brief moments before they started shouting at each other and nearly killing one another verbally, Takeo pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head while Nikolai just kind of stared and laughed at them from below. The both of them watched as Edward and Dempsey yelled and screamed at each other for about five minutes before Edward stormed away with the heavy thumping of his boots. Dempsey seemed to have not even broken a sweat cussing the smaller man out as he looked down below at his comrades, just kind of giving a dorky smile before Takeo lifted his head. 

"What is it that you get from upsetting the Doctor like this almost every day, Dempsey?"

The Japanese man reached for his blade and pointed it up at the American as a way to make his point about being serious, sheathing it back with a click flick before the man on the stairs finally spoke 

"Easy there, Tak. I do it because I really don't want to be here. We've been in this same spot for weeks, and that fucking German has been spouting nonsense about us leaving and him flaunting how wonderful his teleporter is. Have we gone anywhere? No!"

"That us because he is the only one who knows how to operate it, Dempsey. We can not comprehend how much work he must put into that machine, so we can not rush him!"

Leaving it at that, Takeo didn't really have the time to argue with a hard-headed hot-blooded American. He could be doing better things right now, relaxing and keeping an eye on the crawler while meditating or something of the sort. Turning on his heel, he headed back to the main theatre itself, leaving Nikolai and Dempsey to talk amongst themselves. 

Even so, Edward had found nothing to occupy his ever wandering mind, the loneliness of the atmosphere beginning to slowly kill him. He resorts to daydreaming, laying across the Mystery Box with a leg propped up as he started up at the ceiling. In his mind, he hears that song that he'd hummed a while back, his hands on his chest as the words slip from his mouth, more of speaking then singing in a sense. 

"How do I live without the ones I love? Time still turns the pages of the book it's burned. Place and time always on my mind, I have so much to say but you're so far away…"

He doesn't know why he knows this song, it was something he'd overheard during a teleporter test on himself for the first time, the song so alluring and thoughtful. It spoke to him, gave him a sliver of hope. That hope flourished to realization, and soon a snap to the anguish he kept locked inside him and his retaliation against Maxis and Samantha. Before he knew it, he was asleep, his mind filled with horrendous thoughts and a soft sliver of freedom, his senses tingling. There's a voice in the back of his mind. 

Watching.  
Waiting.  
Speaking. 

"If you believe that you truly desire him, take him. Either by force or by consent. You must tell him that you belong to him and that he belongs to you. It is simple, Edward, you just need a way."

There's no face to this figure, but their body is cold and dark, his fingers on their shoulder. Their face was close to his as he could feel breath on his lips. 

"Wake up, Edward. Your children are waiting."

A howl wakes him as he falls off the box, his body shaking and his eyes frantically looking around for the voice and it's form. It was gone. Wait, that was a dream, but it knew about everything. Maybe it was the physical embodiment of his consciousness. He's still wacky up there, he knows, but he must survive this round too. Kicking the box, he was rewarded with a beautiful RPK, grinning widely. 

He'll figure out everything later. 

ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

He was lonely. Again. 

Why was he surprised? To be honest, he wasn't, but at the same time he was. A deep sigh escaped his lips, deciding to make the best of the new silence as he decided that it would be new to try to search beyond the barriers. Crawling through one of the broken doors, he found himself into one of the previous VIP rooms, the once plush couches and beautiful private bar now littered with dust and debris. Looking around, he tries to find something to do, maybe he'd find some more food? 

He'd searched though a couple of boxes filled with Styrofoam and unimportant items when he'd managed to find something. His fingers gripped the item as he pulled it out with glee, happy to find out it was one of his favorite things—red, and particularly extensively aged, wine. Snatching it up and retreating back to safer grounds, he strided up the stairs and made himself comfortable on the couch and proceeded to chug as much as he could, the alcohol immediately hitting him hard as he hiccuped. 

A huge goofy smiled spread across his face. He was happy, very pleasant with his find and actually enjoying the loneliness for once. Leaning back, he drank some more, his eyes fluttering closed as he exhaled and just giggled to himself. He couldn't handle much alcohol, especially since he hadn't had any in a year or so. He'd already lost track of time as he finally set the bottle down since he'd had enough, leaning his heavy head on the arm of the couch as he mumbled to himself. His thoughts were racing, his feelings all over the place as he thought of almost everything that had happened in the past year. 

He was smiling and laughing when he heard someone knock on the doorframe, his head snapping in that direction to wobble over to the person standing there. It's Dempsey, of all people, the one man that had been poisoning the man's thoughts for a long time now. He was saying something but Edward didn't care, reaching his arms up to go around his neck and to kiss his cheek. He was shifting on his toes as he swayed like a proper drunk, humming to himself like he'd lost his mind. 

His face ended up in his chest as he muttered something in his native tongue, his fingers grasping his clothes as his legs wobbled. He's in the presence of the man he's in love with, unconditionally uncomfortably in love with. He feels a finger on his chin as he looks up at him, his eyes sparkling as he catches something lurking behind the American's eyes. Even drunk, he still understands what this means, his eyes wide but softly drooping when he watches him lean closer to him. 

"Dempsey…"

It's the only thing he's able to mumble under his breath before he's tackled to the ground and his arms are wrapped around his head as they kiss, his eyes sealed shut as he tried getting comfortable underneath the large man. 

"I thought you…you hated me…"

There's a chuckle above him as the man sheds his coat, throwing it to his left as his dog tags jingle in front of his face. He doesn't care that the floor is dirty, he's too focused on the man who's got him caged like an animal. 

"I do, but there's always been a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach about my not so amusing infatuation with you. Don't even ask me how I know what that means."

He doesn't say anything, his fingers cupping his soft, battle worn face as he gives a big grin. Of course, they kiss again, one becoming two becoming a loss of count. Drunk, stupid, and in love, they do something reckless. In a matter of seconds, every bit of shame and pride has been thrown out the window, because all that matters is how long their love will take them. 

And Edward plans to make the most of it, kissing him once more before he fully lets himself go to his lover.

ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

When he wakes up, his head is throbbing and his whole body is numb, his hat sitting on a table as his hands rubbing his eyes as he winces and holds his head. Everything hurts tenfold, much like being hit in the head with a baseball bat, if there was a way to describe it. Note: Never drink that much alcohol again, he hates being this hungover. Though, something strikes him as odd once the pain has subsided—what happened last night? He can't seem to remember at all, not even a sliver to memory coming to mind, it's all just a blur after he grabbed the bottle and started drinking. 

Thinking hard, he tries to remember. What happened? Why won't his mind remember? It came to him the moment he was about to give up, a flash of memories basking in an unseen light. 

Panting.  
Whining.  
Saying Dempsey's name.  
Crying. 

His mind recollects every gritty little detail, down to a specific, cherished memory. 

"I...love you."  
"Love you too, idiot."

His face brightens as his hands cover his cheeks, shyness overtaking his once very outgoing self. Then, he heard the man's voice again from behind him, finding him without a shirt while walking around and noticing that his own body was covered in his clothes. Dempsey had taken the time to dress him? 

"What's the matter, kraut? You look like you've seen something you shouldn't have."

He's already teasing him about it as he folds his arms and looks away. He's beyond embarrassed, his mind trying to process everything now. Did that mean that they were a thing? Or was it a one-night stand, like he'd seen so many people do years ago? He's not sure, but he's positive that Dempsey saw the sad look on his face when he thought about it. 

"This wasn't a one night thing, okay? And I know you were drunk, but it was the one time I actually had a chance to express my feelings to you. You liked it, right?"

With twirling thumbs, he nodded shyly. He isn't supposed to be shy! He's supposed to be The Butcher, the smartest but most terrifying of them all! But ever since then, the voices had shut up—every time he spoke with Dempsey or even thought about him, his voices were quiet. This was all so new to him—he had finally had someone who loved him, he felt fulfilled, but not quite just yet. 

All he could do was hug him, his fingers clutching his skin for dear life. He's happy, even if that was a little out of character for the scientist. Leaning up to kiss him, a wide smile crossed his features. He's in love. 

And those sins he so desperately tried to hide away, that sweet lust and greed for him, had finally unveiled itself.

He didn't mind at all.


End file.
